28 March 2015

It has
been a bit of an emotional evening. I decided to go and pay my respects to Lee Kuan
Yew. He was Singapore’s first Prime Minister and is the father of the Island’s
current Prime Minister.

He
died earlier this week at the ripe old age of 91 and the entire country has
been in official mourning. Mr. Lee has been on display at Parliament House
since Monday and all my local friends and colleagues have been to pay their
respects. The talk has been around how long they all had to wait in queue to
pass by his coffin.

I went
past Parliament House yesterday and the line was more than a kilometer long so
I decided to wait until today.

My
wait was 3 hours but I didn’t mind at all.

I
stood amongst many generations of Singaporeans who queued patiently and
quietly.

Singaporeans
love a queue at the best of times.

At the
worst of times as well it seems.

I
didn’t see any other Ang Mo lining up this evening but I am sure many thousands
have.

Lined
up.

An Ang
Mo is a foreigner.

In the
Hokkien language it actually translates to “red haired”.

I am
an Ang Mo but I am no ginger.

Mr.
Lee was a very great man and was well regarded as a leader and a politician
around the world.

I
chatted away to the people in the queue with me and was interested in hearing
why they held the Prime Minister in such high regard.

Their
reverence was such that they considered him to be like a father figure and from
what I understand he was very much a patriarch.

He
took what was an impoverished and resource less little island and turned it
into an economic powerhouse.

His
son has continued what has father started and the achievements of this little
island are quite remarkable.

If I
were a Singaporean I would be very proud.

I
think most Singaporeans are.

Very
proud.

Mr.
Lee epitomizes my concept of Singaporeans. They are smart, humble and
incredibly decent and polite people who I like very much. I know I have written
much about their strange laws and funny ways that might be a little derogatory
at times - but the Island is actually a very nice and pleasant and peaceful
place to live. The mixed cultures from China, Malaysia and India – combined
with the colonial history make it an interesting place to reside and let’s face
it – if I didn’t like it or the people – I wouldn’t stay here.

Singaporeans
don’t make a lot of noise about their success as individuals or as a country
and it is this sense of dignity and a lack of hubris that I find endearing.
They just go about their business.

It is
the direct opposite of the Americans who still seem to think they are the
worlds most powerful and greatest country despite their dodgy economics and
their shady politics. Their patriotism is as fierce as it is misguided.

Americans
continue to invade and occupy foreign countries in their war mongering ways I
think just because their economy is reliant on it.

Singapore
has never invaded anyone.

They
never will either.

Not physically anyway.They invade financially.They are shrewd and clever in all things money.Australians too are a bit misguided. We continue to call ourselves the "lucky country". I suppose we are in many ways.We are blessed with natural resources and have plenty of land and bountiful beauty.There is still much bigotry and ignorance though,There is much growing up to do.I culturally cringe at times.But home is home.

This
is my sixth year of residence on the Island and whilst I have pondered quite a bit about
leaving and I am nomadic by nature – I don’t think I will anytime soon.

Leave that is.

One of
my very favourite Singaporeans actually lives now in Australia.

She is
smart and pretty and adventurous and funny and I chatted to her not long after
hearing of Lee Kuan Yue’s death.

She
told me that with Lee Kuan Yew's death she felt very far from home.

I
thought that was very poignant.

I
thought it was very sad.

Coincidentally
one of Australia’s former Prime Ministers died on the same day as Lee Kuan Yew.

His
name was Malcolm Fraser.

I
didn’t feel much emotion at all at his passing and there is no way I – or most
Australians would have lined up to pass their respects.

I
racked my brain trying to think what he had achieved for my country and I
couldn’t think of anything. What I remember him most for was that he once attended
a global economic forum in Washington and got so drunk that he took off and
then subsequently lost his trousers.

It
made the front page of newspapers around the world.

Nice
one Malcolm.

The
day of Lee Kuan Yew and Malcolm Frasers death is also the day I opted out of
all Social Media.

I did
so because dangerous dudes are looking for me.

Chill
out Mum.

Relax.

Nah – they’re not really.

That dangerous.

I opted out of social media because I was sort of warned off by a work dude.

It was
a strange call really. I don’t know the chap very well but I think he was a
journalist in a previous life.

I know
a few of them actually.

Journalists
in previous lives.

Hey
Nams.

How
are you doing?

The
guy rang me and said he wanted to talk ‘out of left field’. That’s a baseball
term that immediately annoyed me.

You
know what it means.

It was
implied rather than directly suggested that my writing might be politically
incorrect.

I
certainly hope so.

It was
suggested by the former journalist that I might damage the good name of my
Employer through my writing.

I
didn’t think so but I was prepared to listen.

The
example of Qatar was offered up and I had to ponder about what I had written
about that desert oil rich country.

I was
reminded they were a very big client of my Employer and I then remembered that I
had written once how Qatar were slaughtering and maiming Nepalese workers by
the thousands.

I
wrote about this because they are.

It is
horrific.

I have
many Nepali friends - and a lot of who are working in the construction sector
in the Middle East. Qatar is spending billions of dollars building soccer stadiums
and facilities in the desert for some future World Cup – whenever that is.

The
work conditions and death rates are inconceivable.

Whenever
I go to Kathmandu the number of amputees that I see horrifies me. Hard working
and very decent people have been terribly maimed on building sites in Qatar where
the concept of health and safety is non existent.

Nepalese
labour is cheap.

Qatar
doesn’t give a fuck.

We
should all be outraged.

We
should all make a big noise.

I
erred by putting something about this on LinkedIn.

The
Facebook for professionals.

The
work dude read it.

I was
warned off.

So I
deleted my LinkedIn account and thought fuck it – I will disconnect myself from
Facebook too.

It was
an easy call.

I don’t
miss them at all.

The
work dude suggested a number of times that ‘we all need our outlets’ and that
my writing was an ‘outlet’.

Do we?

We
might.

I
don’t think I write as an outlet though.

My
writing is not some sort of faucet either.

What
the fuck?

I have
always written.

I like
the attention.

I like
words and I like putting them together.

I like
selling my books and having people tell me they like them.

I
don’t mind people telling me they don’t like them either.

I just
like being read.

However
I like my job and the obscene amount of money I am paid - and I like paying
very little tax here in Singapore.

I like
that a lot.

So opting
out of LinkedIn was no big deal.

There
is a lot of drivel on LinkedIn.

There
is a hell of a lot of boastful fuckers shouting their greatness to their
wannabe peers.

"Look
at me. Look at me!"

To
my shame I was amongst them - and it was once a bane of my life.

A
couple of years ago I rather foolishly allowed an Australian Journalist refer
to my LinkedIn profile in an article. It was my summary actually. She indirectly
referred to me as a guru and she printed my name as a direct link to my
profile.

My
surname became a hyperlink.

Who
would have thought?

The
journalist was from the BRW - which is an acronym for the Business Review
Weekly. It is a Fairfax publication. She writes very well and I like her
material.

I
like it a lot.

When
this journalist lady asked me if it was OK to write about my LinkedIn profile
I didn't give the matter much thought. In fact I gave it as much thought
as I gave writing my summary. Which was very little.

Thought
that is.

It
was very spur of the moment.

It
was done on a whim.

It
mentioned very little about my work - I just randomly scrawled down a few of my
likes and dislikes. There was a word limit and I could have written more.

Much
more.

In
fact this is what I wrote:

I am Peter.

Peter is me.

I am he.

I am an Australian
expat living and working in Singapore. An ‘expat’ is an expatriate. It is
someone who lives outside of his or her native country – in case you didn’t
know.

How time has
flied. Or is it flown? Either way it seems to have passed very quickly.

I live here alone
and I miss my family.

I miss them a lot.

Living in
Singapore sometimes delights me but it often bores me.

Mostly it baffles
me.

It is weird and
wonderful and at times woeful.

The natives are
friendly but it is a transient place.

People come and
go.

They hither and
thither and they breeze in and out.

It is a rotating
door.

I travel a lot for
my work and I spend a ridiculous amount of time on planes and in airports.

I like to read a
lot.

I devour books and
sometimes I write.

Just for me.

Words do it for
me.

They really do.

I like to swim and
surf and the ocean is my friend. I recently discovered a love for mountains
too.

Big ones.

I often talk to
strangers.

This sometimes
alarms people - especially on trains and buses but less so on planes.

I don't know
why.

I mean no
harm.

It is a cautious
world that we live in.

I talk a lot and I
often pat stray dogs.

I have yet to be
bitten.

I stand and give
up my seat for old men and women when I catch trains and buses and it annoys me
when others don't.

Stand up that is.

I have opinions
and I voice them and I mostly speak my mind. Occasionally it is to my
detriment. Age and experience has taught me that it is wise sometimes not to.

Speak my mind.

Silence can indeed
be golden.

Biting my tongue
hurts though and sometimes a fucker just needs to be called a fucker – no
matter the repercussions.

When faced with
choices and making decisions I endeavour to do what is right. I am acutely
aware that I fail some of the time but I try not to do much wrong. I try very
hard not to cause any harm.

I believe that it
is better to be reckless and right than to be culpable and erroneous.

We should all of
us challenge everything.

I admire and
respect kindness and I value morals.

Remember them?

The words “Please”
and “Thank You” are easy to say and they carry weight.

So too does a
smile.

Mother Teresa
said, "Peace begins with a smile" and who could or would
argue with a Saint?

Not me.

I want peace.

I often crave and
yearn for it.

I believe that we
are formed by what we desire and we are shaped by what we experience.

I would like to
say I never lie but that would be a lie - however I try to be honest most
of the time though.

Or is that a lie?

It isn’t.

Is that?

It is not.

I do not like
spiders or snakes or bats and my favorite animal in the world is the wombat.

There is no hatred
or war or divorce in the wombat world.

I also like whales
and dolphins.

I have swum with
them before.

Guns frighten me
and I don't get wars.

Violence appalls
me.

I don't think of
myself as a coward but some things scare me.

I am fearful of
clowns and cornfields and being buried alive.

If I were ever to
see a clown emerging from a cornfield with a shovel in his hand I would run
like the wind.

I fear losing
people who are close to me - although I know that this is inevitable and it has
happened before.

I found such loss
harrowing and excruciating.

Grief is a deep
wound that takes much time to heal and there are often scars.

Tempus anima
rei.

Time is the soul
of things.

I am sometimes
terrified about tomorrow.

I can make a
killer curry and I also make a mean pesto sauce. The recipe for the pesto sauce
was handed down to me from my Hungarian great grandmother. It has a secret
ingredient that would surprise you.

I like anchovies -
however they are not the secret ingredient.

I ring my mum on
Tuesday every week. If I don't ring her she worries and it worries me when she
worries.

This only worries
her more.

And so it goes.

I wish I could
speak French, Italian or Spanish, as I think that they are musical languages. I
also like listening to Welsh and Irish people because to me they also sound
like they are singing.

I think that
giving is generally better than receiving and I truly believe that those who
have - have a responsibility to those who have not. I used to feel that I was
living to work but I don't anymore and I feel better for it.

Life is short -
live it fast.

An Investment Bank
employs me and it is a BIG one. My job mostly satisfies me although
occasionally it baffles me. Irrespective, I am happy to take my Employer’s
money as it keeps the wolves from my door.

What I do is not
who I am though. I once thought it was.

Then I grew
up.

I now value
contentment more than success - but that is easy to say.

I swear quite a
lot and much of the time I don’t fucking notice. They are just words and are
forms of expression and emotion. I am aware though that my profanity upsets
some people.

I don’t give a
fuck.

I like to go to
places that are difficult to get to and where my I-Phone has no reception.

Such places are
getting harder to find.

It doesn't stop me
seeking though.

It never will.

I waiver between
being an agnostic and an atheist but I believe in myself - most of the time.

I am my own
faith.

I am a cautious
optimist and I believe that most people are inherently good.

Until proven
otherwise.

I try and learn
something new every day. It is not that hard and it doesn't take that much
effort.

I understand that
winning is not everything and I have learnt much more from losing.

I am more
experienced in losing as well.

My life is
littered with mistakes but I have moved rapidly on from them for my ability to
change the past is something that I long ago accepted as being an
impossibility.

However I love
things that seem impossible.

Erring has made me
stronger - and perhaps wiser.

I try to shun
temptation unless I can’t resist it.

The unfairness of
inequity often disheartens and infuriates me and I worry too what legacy
we will leave to our children – and our children’s children.

I am a bit of a
worrier sometimes.

I seek wisdom but
I understand that it is difficult to find. I know that we cannot find it in
books or on the Internet and we will never stumble upon it.

We accumulate it -
through our experiences.

I think that
Goodness is the key to everything.

"Bonitas
non est pessimism ease meliorem"

"It is not goodness to be
better than the worst".

However this is
all just my opinion.

This is just a bit
of me.

That
was it.

So when
the BRW article was published I was shocked at the number of responses I attracted.

I
was swamped with connection requests and messages. There were also direct
emails and Facebook friend requests. There were thousands of them.

They
kept on coming.

Every
day.

Some
people wrote to me just to say that they also liked wombats and others
suggested that we could go wombat spotting together!

Several
dozen messages were received saying I was an inspiration and I attracted a
number of cyber stalkers.

For
fuck sake.

I
put a post up on LinkedIn a couple of days later asking people to please stop.

I
told them that my inbox was being clogged and that some people were getting
creepy.

My
update said fairly succinctly that I am NOT inspirational and I am most
definitely NOT a guru.

I
informed all of these anonymous people that I do not want anymore Facebook
friends and I would not accept friend requests.

I
tried to let them know that I am just a very ordinary bloke trying to make my
way quietly in this world.

It
all died down in a few months though.

I am
joyfully heading back to Nepal again for a few days in a couple of weeks.

It
is a country I love to go to as often as I possibly can.

In
Nepal being LinkedIn means walking arm in arm with someone you love.

In the
Himalaya the strongest and best ‘connections’ are with the mountains.

They
are as spectacular as they are holy to the mostly Hindi population of the
country.

In
Nepal ambition is the hope of putting food on the table at the end of each day.

It
is not a vocational aspiration.

For
the Nepali people opportunities are simply far and few between. They are
definitely not job vacancies and they are certainly not career changes.

It
is all so much more simple over there.

I am
so looking forward to knocking the petty out of Peter.

In
the mountains I will be able to LinkOut.

I
very much need to put my life back into perspective.

For a while at least.

When the line finally moved this evening and I approached Lee
Kuan Yew’s coffin I bowed my head slightly in reverence and respect.